The Texan Genius Deviation
by chromeknickers
Summary: What if Sheldon's parents pulled him out of university after the nuclear reactor incident when he was thirteen? What if Sheldon remained in East Texas, becoming a contractor as opposed to a physicist? What if Penny moved to Texas and they met? What if...
1. Part One

**A/N**: This story is categorised under AU and was written for the Paradox's Kink Meme Challenge. It features graphic sexual situations, which could be considered dub-con – so read at your own discretion.

It should be noted that I wrote several prompts for this challenge and won't be posting them any time soon, mainly because I don't feel comfortable writing smut for Shenny. However, the prompt for this story allowed me to suspend my disbelief (it's so much easier to write a sexual relationship between _parallel universe_!Penny and Sheldon). Without further adieu, here's a smut story written to satisfy the _burning_ need of a most amusing prompter (see prompt below).

* * *

**The Texan Genius Deviation**

**Part One **

The sun was beating down hot on his brow, hotter than he would have liked. It wasn't quite noon yet, and beads of sweat were already rolling down his neck, creeping down into the collar of his white cotton muscle tee. His bare shoulders and forearms were glistening with a fine sheen of sweat that did nothing to assuage his discomfort. Pulling out a cornflower blue handkerchief, he began to mop at his face and neck, squinting his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun.

Sheldon Lee Cooper was not the kind of man who was overly concerned about his appearance, but he did take pains when it came to taking care of his skin. After pocketing his handkerchief, he pulled out a small bottle of sunscreen and began to liberally apply the lotion onto his face and neck, as though it were a healing balm. He had spent the past two hours driving around the new site, inspecting the foundations and checking in with his carefully selected foremen.

Meticulously placing the sunscreen bottle in one of the compartments of his truck, Sheldon grabbed a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. Swallowing the lukewarm water, his Adam's Apple bobbing in this throat, he picked up his hard hat from the back seat and tossed the empty water bottle into a bag. With a laboured sigh, he stepped out of his truck and closed the door, surveying the semi-barren landscape in front of him. Clicking his tongue along his incisor, Sheldon toyed his heavy steel-toed work boot into the sand and placed the hard hat on his head, adjusting it so that it fit.

Sauntering over to the main work station, Sheldon hooked his thumbs into the folded loops of his tool belt, which lazily hung off his hips. It had been almost a year since he had been on an actual construction site – at least it had been a while since he had dressed the part of a construction worker. His main role in family business had always been behind a desk, as president, chief contractor and architect. That's not to suggest that he had become sedentary or removed from the hard labour factor. Sheldon had done his dues – for years, he had laboured under his father's and even his brother's oppressive regimes.

Sheldon was good with his hands, too – building houses, constructing playgrounds, landscaping, painting, tiling, wiring, carpentry. You name it, and he had done it all. But Sheldon was even more gifted at designing, contracting, and financing. He was a brilliant young man, who put most engineers and architects to shame. He knew the physics of what he created, and because of that, anything he designed and built became an instant success, praised by everyone in the business.

Life was all right. He had money, a little bit of fame, and a great deal of success in his field. However, Sheldon always felt as though he was meant for something more in this world. And he might have made more for himself if he hadn't built that damn nuclear reactor when he was thirteen, causing the government to intervene and sue his parents. That had did it for his father, and even his mother didn't stop George from laying down the law on their youngest son. Sheldon was no longer to be treated special; he was pulled out of university and forced to stay at home and be educated at the same snail's pace as the rest of the slack-jawed yokels that made up eastern Texas. His father had also insisted that he learn a trade – and thus began the Cooper and Sons Design and Construction company. With Sheldon as the brains of the outfit, it took off with resounding success.

Speaking of family, Sheldon's brother, Junior, was absent, and Sheldon was far from impressed. As he made his way through the individual workstations, Sheldon greeted his workers, who all knew that their genius boss attended every site opening – to oversee the work. After the first week he was gone, back behind his desk. And while most construction workers hated it when suits loitered around site, Sheldon didn't bring this negative sentiment with him: one, he never wore a suit on site, and, two, he worked almost as much as he directed.

"Hey, Shelly!" a gruff Texan bellowed from behind, clapping a large hand on Sheldon's shoulder.

Recognising the voice of his big brother, Sheldon turned, glancing down at the burly man with disdain. He had spent most of his childhood being beat up by his big lug of a brother, but once Sheldon had turned sixteen, he became taller than J.R. And although he wasn't as wide or as muscular as Junior, at least at first glance, Sheldon was strong, with sinewy muscles on his arms and chest, and he was fit – _very_ fit. What Sheldon lacked in overt muscular bulk, he made up for in toned, sculpted strength, which, when combined with his cold, handsome features and striking blue eyes, certainly presented a rather appealing sight.

"Junior, you were supposed to here an hour ago," Sheldon reprimanded, ignoring the emasculating nickname that his brother gave him. Instead, he frowned at Junior's lack of appropriate construction attire, including the mandatory hard hat.

"I know, Shelly, but there's this girl—"

"I don't want to hear it," Sheldon said, holding up his hand.

J.R. grinned. "Good, 'cause I need to go drop her off back home." He pointed at his mint condition, red 1968 Ford Mustang, and Sheldon could see the outline of a pretty blonde girl sitting in the passenger seat. Typical. "I'll be back in an hour… or two." He winked.

Sheldon shook his head and growled. When the hell would his brother grow up?

* * *

**Prompt: **Hard Labourer!Sheldon. In this AU world, Sheldon's parents were super strict on him after that whole nuclear reactor thing with the government and insisted on him going through schooling at the same pace as his peers. Suddenly, you've got AU!Repressed Genius!Sheldon, where he goes to work at 4am to build houses and bitch about inferior architecture and shit and he's the architect or something for Penny's new house and, _and_...

MAN, SERIOUSLY, JUST A BUNCH OF MUSCLE AND WHITE TANKS AND JEANS AND BOOTS AND A TOOL BELT HANGING OFF HIS HIPS AND HIS FOREHEAD AND HIS SHOULDERS AND HIS FOREARMS GLISTENING WITH SWEAT IN THE AFTERNOON SUN.

JESUS CHRIST I WANT IT LIKE A BURNING!

* * *

…

*breaks down into belly rumbling laughter* Seriously, how could I _not_ write this?


	2. Part Two

**The Texan Genius Deviation**

**Part Two **

"You son of a bitch!"

Sheldon's eyebrows shot up in puzzlement, and surprise. He hadn't heard many women utter such phrases in his office – not in the heart of East Texas. But this wasn't some southern belle who had busted in his office demanding retribution. No, she was a Yankee – and a great deal teed off one by the sounds of it.

"Can I help you…" He paused, putting down his pen and searching his eidetic memory for the angry blonde's name, who was clearly a Mid-Westerner and not a Yankee. And although Sheldon was convinced that he had seen her before, no name came to mind. Odd. "_Miss_?"

She closed the door and walked right up to his desk, pressing her thighs against the front edge of it as she bent over. Sheldon glanced down at her pale knuckles as she planted her hands near the edge and leaned down so close that her face was only inches from his, causing him to recoil slightly.

"It's Penny," she growled, her green eyes ablaze. "And I cannot _find __them_."

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Sheldon wondered exactly what _them_ was and why she was in his office looking for _them_. He was about to open his mouth to ask those exact questions when he noticed that her pupils were dilated and flickering, her nostrils flaring with barely suppressed rage. He stared back at her unflinchingly. No one intimidated Sheldon Lee Cooper – least of all a pretty blonde – but she had done a hell of a good job at capturing his attention.

"Well, Penny," he drawled, leaning back in his chair so that his face wasn't so precariously close to hers, "why don't you tell me what 'them' is and how you believe that _I_ can help you locate them."

She bristled at his tone and then brought a hand up in the air. Sheldon was sure that she was going to slap him, so he made to catch her wrist, but she merely brought her fingers to her hair, smoothing back the stray golden tendrils.

"This is Cooper and Sons Design and Construction, is it not?" she asked brusquely, her eyes never leaving his.

"You are correct," he intoned, bringing his fingers together to rest on the surface of his desk. "I am Sheldon Lee Cooper, the chief architect and president of the company." He offered her his hand, but she declined. He frowned, looking at his palm for a moment before returning it to the desk. "Again, may I help you with something, Penny?"

"I am a client of yours," she explained, the ice in her voice far from melting, "and one of your _workers _took my things."

Sheldon knitted his brow in disbelief. "It is highly unlikely that one of my workers would steal from you, Penny." The look on her face indicated otherwise, so he changed courses. "But, pray tell, what was absconded with?"

"Absconded? What?" Her mouth hung open in confusion.

"What. Was. Stolen," Sheldon clarified in a staccato tone, and the light seemed to go on upstairs in the petite blonde's head.

"My collection of My Little Ponies!"

Sheldon pursed his lips together and leaned back in his chair. "You think that one of my men stole your _My Little Ponies_ collection?" That would be a first.

"Who else would have?"

He nodded slowly. "Who else would have, indeed."

"Listen," Penny said, exasperated, placing a hand on a slender hip, "all I know is that the ponies were in my house before I left for work and were gone when I got home." She pointed an accusing finger at his chest. "_Your_ employees have been in my house all day renovating my basement. No one else has been in there but them!"

Sheldon tilted his head to the side, judiciously examining the incensed blonde. "It could be that you misplaced them." She gave him a warning look,and his left eye twitched. "_Or_ a worker moved them some place else while working." He leaned forward and picked up his pen, taking out a pad of paper from inside his front drawer. "I will look into the matter personally." He clicked the pen and looked up at her. "Where is your house, Penny?"

The blonde seemed to relax for a moment and then began reciting her address. She was a new client, one brought in by his older brother, J.R. Figures.

"Thank you," Sheldon said absently, jotting down the information. Then another thought came to mind: if the ponies were indeed stolen or permanently misplaced, he would need to pay her out a sum, so insurance information would be needed as well. "Were the dolls worth anything?"

Penny blinked and stood up. "No, not really. Not monetary, anyway." Looking as though she had been caught off guard, the blonde bristled once more, getting defensive. "But they are mine! And even if they are misplaced, as you say, they weren't your workers' things to move around. They are _mine_!"

"Got it," Sheldon said, scribbling more notes. "Sentimental value; _yours_." He glanced up, blue eyes focussed. "Anything else?"

She shook her head, golden waves bouncing, and Sheldon lowered his pen. He had to admit that watching the pretty woman's anger bloom in front of him was rather fascinating, even if it was also somewhat terrifying. While Sheldon was sure that her collectibles meant a great deal to her, perhaps her anger was being channelled from a different place within, and he wondered exactly what it was. As far as he knew, he had done nothing to excite her ire.

"I realise, Penny, that you are the wronged woman in this whole—" he contemplated what word to use "—_matter_; however, I really think—"

What little control she had on her emotions was snapped brittlely in that one moment.

"_Wronged_ woman?" she cried, stomping her foot. "What _fucking_ century do you live in, Mr Cooper?"

Sheldon straightened his back, poker-like and rigid, and he blinked, _hard_. No one dared talk to him like that. _Ever_.

"I am so sick of your _goddamn_ company and your _goddamn_ family." She straightened up. "And here you are, sitting behind a fucking desk, using it as a shield. Are you a coward, Mr Cooper? Are _you_ afraid of _me_?" She moved to the side of the desk, kicking it sharply before she continued her verbal barrage from a closer vantage point, moving nearer to him as she railed.

Sheldon was beyond mortified at her temper. His family. His _family_? Realisation suddenly dawned on him, and he knew exactly why she had looked so familiar before: she was the girl he had seen sitting in the passenger seat of J.R.'s Ford Mustang.

_Son of a bitch_, indeed!

Junior had gone and done a fuck-and-dash with another client! That ignorant troglodyte! When Sheldon got a hold of his big brother, he was going to thrash that bastard beyond recognition. He was no good for business. Unprofessional. Now Sheldon would have to oversee this Mid-Western girl's construction – that is if she didn't null and void the damn contract right then and there.

"You can't even stand up to talk to me!" She was directly beside him now, placing her foot on his chair and pushing him roughly away from the desk.

The abrupt movement shook Sheldon back to life. He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw sharply – dangerously. Her voice was vitriolic and staccato, and, quite frankly, Sheldon had had enough of it.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he moved too fast for her to even realise what was happening. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled at the sensitive skin and the fine baby-like hairs there as he curled his fingers farther up into her hair, twisting his hand and holding her immobile. He reached his other arm around and placed his free hand in the middle of her lower back. He pulled her forward, sharply and painfully until she fell onto his lap.

Sheldon had to give her credit. She didn't scream or pitch a fit or push against him. Her mouth wasn't hanging open in dumbfounded shock, either. Instead, her eyes were narrowed, much like how his had been earlier, and she was watching him with a stony glare, breathing heavily through her nose.

Sheldon reached down with both hands and dug his fingers into her thighs, violently tugging them apart and placing them on either side of his own legs. With a sharp yank, she was tugged into him, her soft, hot flesh settling over him. Her skirt had ridden up so that all that separated them between her legs were his pants and the thin lace of her panties. He could feel her burning through them, her heat on him.

Enough was really enough.

Sheldon brought both hands up to her face and brutally pulled her lips down to his and kissed her. It was a hungry kiss, without finesse or softness. That was when Penny made her first sound: she gasped into his mouth, and he brought a hand up to the back of her head, winding his fingers into her long, blonde hair. Instead of fighting him, however, she gave in with a click of teeth. Sheldon was surprised to feel her hands twist in the material of his shirt right below his collar. She hissed into him, her eyes closed as they kissed, her hips rocking slightly against his.

_Enough!_

Sheldon pulled back, frightened with himself for what he had just done, for what he was almost did. He had almost sexually assaulted a woman in his office – a client. What the hell was wrong with him? He never got worked up over a girl like this before. _Never_.

"Penny—_Miss_, I-I am so very sorry," he stuttered, apologising as she fell out of his lap once he awkwardly stood to his feet.

"N-No," Penny objected shakily, smoothing out her blouse and skirt before wiping the back of her hand along her mouth. "I should apologise. I'm not angry about the ponies." She weakly pointed at him with a wave of her hand, staring down at her shoes. "It's just that you look so much like J.R., and I was mad at _him_ – not you."

Sheldon cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, taking a hesitant step back. "Yes, he has a habit of angering women." He flicked his tongue along his upper lip, avoiding eye contract. "If you would like to cancel our contract or perhaps have a new foreman appointed—"

"No, no!" Penny protested, offering Sheldon a sheepish grin, as she habitually rolled her tongue over her lips, much like he had. "No, I'd like _you_ to be in charge – that is, if you don't mind."

Panic seized him, rooting him to the spot for a second before he shook his head, feigning a smile. "O-Of course, I do not mind. I will be on the site tomorrow."

Penny brought her hands together and let out a relieved sigh. She smiled shyly and began to back towards the door. "Good," she said, nodding. "I'll see you then. I'll be at home until late evening. It's my day off."

"Excellent," Sheldon said, playing with his tie again. "I will see you tomorrow then, Penny."

"Great. See you tomorrow, Mr Cooper."

"Sheldon," he corrected, a small smile touching his lips – a genuine smile, a boyish smile – despite what had just transpired moments ago. "Call me Sheldon."

"Okie dokie," she said with a nervous, pitched laugh, before turning to head out the door. "Good afternoon, Sheldon."

"Good afternoon, Penny."


	3. Part Three

**The Texan Genius Deviation**

**Part Three**

Sheldon had showed up to Penny's house at a quarter past eight; his crew was already there. While his company did minor renovations, as well as high scale constructions like gallerias, skyscrapers, and university buildings, Sheldon never personally oversaw small projects. For the large, extremely profitable projects, which Sheldon designed himself, he would would obviously attend and supervise. He certainly didn't go out of his way to oversee a basement renovation of a modest business owner. But this hair accessories entrepreneur, as he would later find out, was a women whom Sheldon's brother had dumped and pissed off. Plus, just the other day, Sheldon had personally stuck his tongue down her throat and almost threw her onto his desk to have his way with her.

And his mother said he was a genius.

Sighing, Sheldon stepped out of his truck and pulled out his tool belt, fastening it around his waist to let it hang off his hips. He wore what his employees wore: faded and ripped blue jeans, a white muscle tee, and steel-toed boots. Grabbing his hard hat out of the back, just in case, Sheldon strolled up the walkway. The door to the house was already open, as his workers had arrived at eight o'clock, sharp. He wiped the bottom of his boots on the welcome mat and peered around the hall, looking for Penny. He told himself that he was going to greet her because he just wanted to let her know that he was personally going to supervise the renovation project, as well as help build. But, really, he just wanted to see the girl, and he wasn't quite sure why.

The sound of running water pricked up his ears, and he set down his hard hat on the knoll of the staircase. Stepping into the living room, he turned his head to the left where the kitchen was. He could see Penny standing at the sink, washing her breakfast dishes. Walking slowly towards her, Sheldon watched the blonde dance to the music that played on a small stereo that sat on the counter next to the sink. Even in his steel-toed boots, Sheldon barely made a noise. He had always been graceful, even in his youth.

Eventually, Penny registered the fact that she was not alone when the movement of his forearms caught her attention. He uncrossed his arms and hooked his thumbs into the loops of his tool belt, letting them rest there. Giving her an almost guilty look, he nodded and greeted her with a curt hello, which she responded in kind with a smile, turning to face him completely.

"Sheldon," she said warmly, and then her eyes widened, as though unsure. "It's Sheldon, right?"

He nodded, a half-smile gracing his lips. His mother called it a pirate smile – the kind of smile that made women swoon and come down with the vapours. Penny blushed in response, clearly smitten.

Sheldon found himself enraptured as well. She was wearing a red tank top with blue and white short shorts, and on her feet were yellow flipflops, heavy with wear. Her hair was done up in a high ponytail, and her face was without any make-up. She certainly wasn't the most beautiful woman Sheldon had ever seen, but she was the most captivating – the only woman to really garner his attention in years… or possibly ever.

"My men are here," he announced almost huskily, licking at his lips, "and I'd like to get to work, if that's okay with you—" his pirate smile widened "—_Penny_."

The blonde tongued the inside of her cheek and smiled, bringing her hands back to rest on the counter. "Of course," she said, her green eyes appraising him. "So, you work with them?"

Sheldon inclined his head, unhooking his thumbs from his belt. "Yes, Ma'am." His blue eyes sparkled in the light streaming in from the window. "I'm here to make sure they do a good job – and the best job is done when I'm around helping."

Penny licked at her lower lip and grinned, pushing herself off the counter. "Well, then, would you like some coffee before you work?"

Sheldon shook his head politely, waving his hand. "No thank you, Penny. I don't drink coffee."

"No coffee, huh?" she asked, both eyebrows raised. "Are you the type who doesn't drink alcohol, too?"

Sheldon titled his head back and pursed his lips together, studying her intently. "I'm not sure what type of person that would make me, but, yes, I do not imbibe alcoholic libations either."

Penny opened her mouth, agog, and laughed. She then took a few slow steps towards Sheldon, bringing her hand to his shoulder and running her fingers over the top of his naked flesh for the briefest of moments. He shivered under her touch.

"You're one of those beautiful mind types, aren't you?" she asked with a hint of awe in her voice.

Sheldon flinched, taken aback by her words. They seemed familiar and so right coming from her mouth. He stood there, savouring them, and then nodded, his charming pirate smile rising to his lips.

"Yes, Penny," he said, looking down into her green eyes, "I'm one of those beautiful mind types."

She laughed. It was a mellifluous laugh, and it bubbled from the pit of her stomach, making him laugh breathlessly with her.

"I'm envious," Penny said. "I just make hair accessories – Penny Blossoms and such. Not much for a girl from rural Nebraska to do, besides become a cornhusker's wife." She blushed, shaking her head. "But, I'm keeping you from your work. Please, come up to the kitchen for lunch on your break. I'll make you something to eat."

He politely inclined his head. "I'd like that, Penny."

Smiling, Sheldon headed down into the basement, eager to work. It had been a while since he had handled tools, and it was easy to get back into the swing of things, just like riding a bicycle. He also had to admit that hard labour, although once vehemently opposed to it in his childhood and adolescence, was quite liberating and almost relaxing. His muscles screamed and ached as he worked. And as the men joked, Sheldon daydreamed about Penny: the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, how smooth her skin looked, what her hair smelled like…

Sheldon shook those thoughts from his mind and immediately went back to work. When lunch finally rolled around, he found himself starving. Nothing like a few hours of hard labour to work up an appetite. Nodding to his workers, who went to their own trucks to eat lunch outside, Sheldon bounded up the stairs to the kitchen, wiping the drywall dust off his clothes as he went. He didn't know how excited he was to see Penny until he saw her standing at the stove, her back to him.

"Hey," she said, turning from the stove to greet him with a bright smile. "Working hard?"

Sheldon paused and took his handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping his face and hands before shoving the cloth back in his jeans' pocket.

"My father used to say that if you weren't sweating, you weren't working hard enough." He drawled the words like his father often had, and Penny's smile widened.

She had changed out of her tank top and shorts and was now wearing a short, loose skirt with a simple white blouse – the last three buttons were left undone with the collar open, exposing her creamy white skin. She picked up the frying pan and brought it over to the plate sitting on the island counter. Digging the spatula underneath the bread, she scooped up the grilled-cheese sandwich and placed it on the plate. She then put the frying pan back down on the stove top and grabbed a knife from the counter, neatly slicing the sandwich in half. She picked up the plate and handed it to Sheldon.

"Here you go, sweetie."

The way she said 'sweetie' tugged at his mind and his body somehow. It felt familiar and lovely, and he couldn't help but smile as he took the plate from her hand.

"Oh, wait!" she said, turning to a jar and using a fork to retrieve two pickled okra from inside. She dropped them down beside his sandwich and then brought her fingers to her lips, sucking off the juices. "There you go."

She even knew his favourite pickle to go with a grilled-cheese sandwich. How perfect was she? Guiding him to the kitchen table where another plate sat, Penny picked up a pitcher of fresh lemonade and poured him a glass as he took a seat.

"Thank you, Penny," he said gratefully, taking a sip of the cool, sweet lemonade. "This is delicious."

She smiled. "Aww, thank _you_, honey. And you are _very_ welcome."

They ate in comfortable silence, Sheldon contemplating why he didn't refuse lunch beforehand and why he looked forward to spending time with Penny. She was his brother's ex, for God's sake, and he knew J.R.'s type: busty, blonde, and dumb. Penny was just blonde, and from the look of her roots, she might not have been that either. But she was pretty – most definitely pretty – and she had the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen.

"Here, let me get those," he said, rising to his feet as she made to take their empty plates.

He picked up the dirty dishes and took them over to the sink, turning on the hot water and squirting liquid soap inside. She saddled up beside him, taking out a dish towel while he washed.

"You didn't have to help," she said, taking the wet plate from his hand, their fingertips touching.

"Please, it is a gentleman's duty to help the lady clean," he answered with his southern drawl, favouring her with a charming smile. "It is only fair for me to clean the dishes since you made the meal, which was delicious, by the way."

She blushed. "You're too kind, Mr Beautiful Mind."

He snorted, enjoying her quick rhyme and the compliment, and they both laughed together.

After the dishes, Penny cleared the table and the counters, and as Sheldon wiped down the counter tops, they talked. They talked about Nebraska, where she was from; they talked about football – she a Huskers fan, he a Longhorns. They talked about the weather, about the unbearable heat of Texas, and they talked about work. When Penny showed Sheldon what she did for a living, he could not help but chortle at the modest barrettes and other hair accessories she made. He did not mean it as a slight, but she took offence nonetheless. And all of the sudden, without warning or explanation, they were fighting.

"You wouldn't know women's fashion if it jumped up and bit you in the ass!" she barked, backing him towards the table.

"Well, they'd be quite the accessory if they could do that!" he squared back, nostrils flaring. "And how can one only be familiar with something if it bites one in the ass? That doesn't even make any sense!"

"That doesn't make any sense?" Penny parroted, shaking her head. "_You_ don't make any sense, Sheldon! It was a turn of phrase, an expression." She threw her arms up in the air in frustration. But at least she wasn't completely angry – she did call him by his first name instead of Mr Cooper or Dumbass.

"I don't even know why we're fighting!" Sheldon roared back. He wasn't prone to shouting. In fact, he hated it, hated fighting. His parents used to argue all the time when he was growing up. And, to be quite honest, he had no earthly notion why he and Penny were fighting to begin with.

"I don't know either!" She breathed heavily, her face just inches from his.

Sheldon was breathing just as heavily, his heart hammering inside his chest. This woman was so damn infuriating, and yet so fascinating. Why did he feel this way around her: so conflicted, so emotional?

Without thought, he seized her by the waist and pulled her into him, his hands travelling up to her face to cup her cheeks. He crushed his mouth to hers, drawing out whatever air was in her lungs. The kiss was hot and bruising. One hand on her shoulder, one on her waist, he dipped her downward, lowering her onto the kitchen table as he cleared the place mats off with a brush of his long forearm.

She raised her head to look up at him, and that's when he tore open the buttons to her blouse. He wrenched the fabric open wide, yanking her bra down so swiftly that he was sure she would have abrasions in the morning. His fingers only went to her breasts for a moment, teasing, before his mouth came down to clamp upon an already erect nipple. While his mouth played minstrel with one swollen teat, his fingers attended to the other – pinching and rubbing. She cried out when he pulled away, his teeth scraping along her sensitive flesh. Next, his hands went down to her hips, pushing her skirt up to her waist and ripped – literally _ripped_ – her panties off. He was in a fervour, and he couldn't stop himself. Her scent – her smell – was intoxicating, and he just had to have her.

Sheldon removed his tool belt so quickly that it almost snapped, the leather sounding wet like a whip. Swift, nimble fingers attended to his jeans. Once undone and bare, he released himself into his hand, thick and erect. Before she could lower her head to the hard surface of the table, he was already there, brushing against her inner thigh and pushing himself inside. She let out a hiss of shock or pain, and he stayed still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his length. Her breath seemed to have left her, and she hit her head back against the table, gasping.

She felt good, so incredibly good – her tightness, her warmth. Everything about her was amazing to Sheldon. He had never felt this way about a woman before – about sex – and he had to control his breathing in order to prevent himself from exploding inside her on the third thrust. Then Penny made the most guttural sound imaginable, as her legs reflexively came up around his waist, hooking her ankles together as she pulled him in close. But Sheldon gave her no quarter and instead began a brutal, driving pace, thrusting into her so powerfully that she had to hold onto his wrists, crying out. His fingers were digging into her hips now, keeping her in place for fear that she would fall off the table.

Then she made a sound that closely resembled a sob, and he sped up, his hands travelling up from her hips to grip at her shoulders, keeping her pinned beneath his movements. Because she was trapped underneath him and could not slide up the table, her body was made to accept each of his drives, her soft flesh yielding to his hard lines and tendons. Her teeth jarred and chattered with each of his movements, the molars clacking in time as he thrust into her again and again. He brought his mouth to an engorged nipple and began to suck, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

She screamed.

"Fuck me!"

She hissed the two words into the pathways of his ear, and he stifled a groan in his throat, his lips still clamped around a swollen nipple. He pulled back, tightening his grip on her, and moved his face away from hers and down into her hair, avoiding her eyes as he drove into her harder and faster – impossibly so. And then he shifted, rolling his hips up slightly and before she could swear out loud with the sheer pleasure of it, he had finally hit that special spot, and she was shaking beneath him. By the third time she was coming, gripping at the broad mesa of his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, her legs tightening like a vice around his hips. She was coming – hadn't stopped coming – and her head was thrown back, and she was hoarsely crying his name over and over again.

Sheldon was overcome, and the vertebrae at the base of his spine seemed to lock in place as he came hotly inside of her, wave after wave. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his forearms, not quite resting his body on top of hers. She let her legs drop from around him. The flesh peeling away from flesh made a sweet, sticking sound, and Sheldon felt himself spasm inside her.

"Oh, fuck." Her words were sighed.

He sighed in return and lifted himself off her. Her shirt was gaping, torn, and her breasts were chafed from the movement of his shirt against them. He looked down between her legs as he pulled out of her, watching her pink and red wet flesh, the sticky white strands of their sex still attached to him and to her, and he reached a hand down to bat them away. He'd have to wash up soon. Habit.

Penny shut her legs slowly, wincing as she sat up to look at him. Sheldon stood up and began to dress, pulling on his jeans and rubbing his sticky wet hand along the denim. He picked up his tool belt and tied it securely about his waist. He was breathing only just a little heavier than normal, but his heartbeat was racing; his cheeks were flushed..

"I'm a mess," Penny said, searching for an article of clothing to put on.

Sheldon wasn't sure if she was talking about her current physical appearance or her emotional state, but, with that utterance, Penny slid off of the table and picked up the tattered remains that were once her underwear and clothes. Righting her skirt down her hips, she pulled her bra back up to cover her reddened nipples. As she held her shirt together as best she could, she turned and began to walk purposefully out of the kitchen.

_Brilliant job, genius_, Sheldon thought to himself as he watched her go. He brought his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and massaged. _If she thought you were nothing like Junior earlier, she's going to recant that statement now_.

For a certified genius, Sheldon could be pretty damn stupid sometimes. Having sex with his brother's ex on her kitchen table after arguing over _goddamn_ barrettes? What the fuck was wrong with him? What happened to the cold, indifferent Sheldon who didn't care about anything or anyone besides his work? The Sheldon who would have had a bottle of sanitiser on him and would have started applying liberally after sex?

Fuck, this woman was going to be the death of him.


	4. Part Four

**The Texan Genius Deviation**

**Part Four**

Sheldon had considered bolting the moment Penny had left the kitchen. It was in his nature to do so – to avoid confrontation, which was why he preferred running his own business. But Sheldon couldn't bring himself to move: he actually felt bad, like he had wronged Penny in some way. It had been a long time since he'd had sex, and Sheldon had always considered the act rather perfunctory, before now. He had also never had a real girlfriend before, not in the strictest sense of the word, and his sporadic sexual encounters with female colleagues or women his sister introduced him to only served one purpose: gratification.

That's not to say that Sheldon was a user, and he certainly wasn't some modern day Lothario. He was awkward and shy and, frankly, uninterested. It wasn't just his lack of interest, though. Most women couldn't stand to be in his presence for an extended period of time: he was too terse, too acerbic, too _pedantic_. In short, he was too intelligent and not entirely humble about it. After a few slaps to the face and knees to the groin, though, Sheldon had learnt to keep silent and distance himself from women as humanly as possible. Sure, they still found his arrogant airs attractive, but Sheldon discovered long ago that most women – most people – were utterly dull and boring. That is until he met Penny…

There was something about her – her temper juxtaposed with her sweet, good natured appearance. She seemed motherly and caring, yet sexy and independent – a woman who spoke her mind. She didn't appear to be burdened with an over abundance of intellect, but she was far from stupid and seemed like the type who was willing to learn and to listen, which was an attractive quality to him. But for all that Sheldon did and did _not_ know about Penny, what made her really interesting to him was that he wanted to learn more about her – more than just the feel of her body beneath his hands. Not that he didn't want that, too. With Penny, Sheldon felt urges he had never before considered acting on. She brought out his human side, his vulnerable side, and he didn't know what to think about that.

So, instead of dwelling on his feelings, Sheldon returned to the basement, intent on doing some good out of the shit-storm he had created. He was useless for the most part, distracted by his thoughts, wondering if Penny would descend the stairs and beat the living shit out of him. She didn't, thank the merciful baby Jesus for that, and Sheldon did manage to be _slightly_ more than useless: he actually found her collection of My Little Ponies. They were stored away in a clear tote box in one of the storage closets. He assumed that one of his workers had done it, to prevent them from being damaged. After giving instructions to Manuel, his chief foreman of the renovation project, to inform Penny of her located collectibles, Sheldon headed back to his office.

For the rest of the week, he holed himself up there, avoiding his family _and_ Penny as he immersed himself in his work. Penny had called several times, but Sheldon had just instructed his secretary to tell her that he was out of office, away on business. Sheldon couldn't bring himself to lie – he was never very good at it. Instead, he tried to placate Penny from afar, debiting her account for the renovation job, doing it au gratis while he paid out his employees. He figured that would be the end of it: money solved all problems. Or so he thought.

Late one afternoon, though, sitting at his drafting desk, Sheldon heard a loud scuffle just outside his office door. Two women were bickering back and forth. One was the voice of his secretary, and the other was the unmistakeable cadence of the Nebraskan woman, Penny. She burst in through his door without preamble, his secretary hot at her heels. Sheldon jumped to his feet, knocking back his chair with the sudden motion.

"Mr Cooper, I tried to stop her, but—"

"It's alright, Mrs Smith," Sheldon said, raising his hand in placation. "I will see her." He turned to Penny and motioned for her to step inside. "Please, Penny, come in."

Penny nodded thanks and then gave Mrs Smith a sharp look, which the elderly southern belle returned before heading back to her own desk. Closing the door behind her, Penny smoothed out her skirt and walked over to where Sheldon stood, taking the seat across from his desk.

"You didn't return my phone calls," she said softly, as she crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knee.

Sheldon swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. Fiddling with his tie, he walked over to his main desk and took a seat, nervously licking at his lips.

"I was away… on business."

He was floundering, and he knew it. The mischievous grin that flitted across Penny's face let him know that she did not believe him either. Instead of being angry, though, she laughed, shaking her head in beguiled amusement.

"Sweetie, you are a _horrible_ liar."

A pink blush rose up his neck when she called him 'sweetie', creeping up the way up to his ears. He looked down at his hands, which he brought together to rest on top his desk.

"Yes, I am," he admitted softly, and then cleared his throat uncomfortably. Glancing up, he met Penny's furtive glances with unwavering deep blue eyes. It was time for business. "Can I help you with something, Penny?"

She blinked, almost recoiling at his cool insouciance and the way he said her name. Quickly and admirably, she recovered from his stony glare, smoothing her hands up and down her thighs, giving him a courteous nod.

"First of all," Penny said with a confident voice that Sheldon did not expect, "I'd like to thank you for finding my collectibles." She gave him a thin smile. "Secondly, I'd like to thank you for debiting my account. You really didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

Sheldon took in a quick breath and slid his tie through his fingers. "It was warranted," he protested, his cerulean eyes flickering in the fluorescent light. "I was unprofessional, as was my brother." There was an audible click as he swallowed. "It was the least I could do."

Penny opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she uncrossed her legs and stood up, sliding her chair over so that she was sitting directly beside him. Sheldon blinked nonplussed, shifting in his seat as she saddled up next to him.

"About that," Penny said, drawing out the syllable as she shrugged her shoulders forward in a guilty manner. "I have a confession to make."

Setting his jaw straight, Sheldon stared blankly at the blonde – or at least he thought his expression was blank. Instead, his eyes had a smouldering look to them. Intense, is what his sister called his look.

Penny took in a deep breath and exhaled, clasping her hands together. "Sheldon, I dated your brother for revenge."

Well, he didn't expect _that_. "Revenge?"

Penny lightly slapped the back of her hand along her palm. "It's a long story," she explained sheepishly, peeking coquettishly at him through her long lashes.

Sheldon nodded, lips pursed. "I'm sure it is." His Texan drawl was kicking in overtime as he leaned back in his chair. "Colour me intrigued, Penny."

She let out a breathless laugh tinted with anxiety and brought her hand to her hair, smoothing back the flyaways. Sheldon watched as her fingers trailed down the nape of her neck, touching her collarbone and surreptitiously teasing towards the décolletage of her top. He tried to look away, glancing up at her face, but that's when his eyes fell on her lips – full and pink and moving.

"—From the beginning."

Sheldon gave a slight shake of his head, waking himself from his reverie. Swallowing hard, he brought a hand to his ear and nodded absently, trying to shake the thoughts of Penny's full lips and enticing décolletage from his head.

"It all started six months ago when I first moved here," she continued, unaware of Sheldon's wandering eyes. "I was new in town, with a new store. The _new_ person." She shrugged, pointing to herself. "You know, _not from Texas_."

Sheldon smiled. Yankees and Mid-Westerners alike weren't exactly welcomed wholeheartedly in the south – even pretty, bubbly blonde Mid-Westerners like Penny.

"I hired a girl to work in my shop: Mandy Tanner." She took in a deep breath and smiled. "Sweetest girl you'd ever meet." Her smile faltered. "And then, about a month and a half ago, she started dating this handsome Texan rake: big guy with dark hair and dark blue eyes – a _real_ charmer."

Sheldon didn't even need to guess. "Junior."

"Yup," she said, popping the P. "Mandy went on and on about how handsome and funny he was." She sighed. "I was happy for her. He seemed to be treating her right." She set her jaw tightly, not speaking.

"And then he dumped her," Sheldon finished for her, knowing his brother's play.

Penny shook her head, her voice wavering. "He destroyed her." Tears began to brim in her bright green eyes. "She was completely shattered, and I-I just couldn't stand to see her cry."

She started to hiccup with emotion, and Sheldon withdrew a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket, handing it to the sniffling blonde. Grateful, she took it, embarrassed at her lack of emotional control. As their fingers touched, Sheldon felt a jolt of electricity run through him like a current. He withdrew his hand in haste.

"Thank you," Penny said, dabbing at her eyes. "Seeing her in pain, it just made me so angry." She crumbled the handkerchief in her hand as if to demonstrate her palpable anger. "I decided to get him back as good as he got her."

Sheldon nodded slowly, repressing the urge to grin and say "good for you".

"I researched him online," Penny continued, playing with the handkerchief, "and I found your company." She began licking at her lips somewhat nervously. "I hired him to do my basement, and he came by to take my information and survey my house." She snorted derisively, dramatically rolling her eyes. "He took an instant liking to me. Of course, I did go out of my way to look a little bit slutty for the occasion."

While Penny laughed, Sheldon recoiled as if he'd been slapped. The thought of Penny dressing provocatively for his brother made him feel queasy. It also made him want to drink – anything to bleach the image from his mind.

"I strung him along," she said almost wistfully, as though recounting a fond tale. "Bit of a cock-tease, really."

Sheldon coughed, putting a hand to his chest to stifle the attack. Penny merely grinned.

"He fell for it, obviously, and pursued me relentlessly." Her grin turned wolfish. "And then when he thought I was going to give it up to him, I confronted him about Mandy and dumped his ass."

Sheldon couldn't help but return her grin this time. It was about time some woman put Junior in his place. "I gather he didn't take it well."

"No, no he did not," Penny said seriously. "Later that night I got a phone call from him saying that he'd slept with Mandy again." She gave Sheldon a pointed look. "Meanwhile, I was getting hysterical texts from Mandy, saying that J.R. had used her again. She was devastated.

"And, look—" she waved her hands defensively in front of her face "—I know that in some ways, she's just as much to blame as he is, but—"

"But you felt guilty because he had done so in order to exact retribution on you?"

Penny nodded, sighing. "After that, he told me that he had taken something precious of mine and that I would never see again."

Sheldon frowned. "The ponies."

"I ran downstairs, and they were gone." She shook her head. "The next day, I came barging into your office—" she motioned to their surroundings with a wave of her hand "—looking for your brother."

Sheldon snorted. "No wonder you were angry: you were disappointed to find me instead."

"Disappointed that I didn't get to chew him out," Penny clarified. "Instead, you were there, and you look so much like him, but different. Smarter, colder…" She paused, smiling up at him. "More handsome."

Sheldon turned away, unconvinced. He knew Junior was the better-looking man. He always had been; he always would be.

"I have to admit that I was instantly attracted to you," Penny said, chewing on her lower lip almost bashfully. "I mean, not just your looks – you're a cutie, no doubt – but the way you carried yourself, the way you spoke, the way you handled me." She laughed. "You were just so cool and intelligent."

"So that's why you started kicking my chair and verbally assaulting me?" he asked with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

Penny hid her face, blushing pink. "I have a temper, if you haven't noticed."

Sheldon nodded, the corners of his lip twitching upward into a smirk. He had noticed, and he liked it.

Penny lowered her hands, her cheeks still flushed with colour. "And so after our little 'altercation' in your office—" she made air quotation marks with her fingers "—I went home and researched you."

Now his curiosity was piqued. "And?"

"_And_ I found out all this interesting stuff about you – all these awards you won as a child." She leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee. "You really are some kind of genius, Sheldon Cooper."

It had been a long time since someone had called him a genius – a long time since someone had appreciated him for his intellect. Before Sheldon knew what he was doing, he had leant forward and raised his hands to Penny's face, cupping her cheeks. Instantly, she closed her eyes as his fingers slowly delved through the mass of her thick, blonde hair, feathering across her scalp. She shuddered gently, her eyes now opening – sea-green eyes, dilated and flickering.

Before Penny could open her mouth to speak, Sheldon's lips were already pressed against hers. She was too shocked to react at first, and he took advantage of her stupor to deepen the kiss. Somehow, her hands found their way up his arms, grasping tightly onto hard muscles, raking her nails down the fabric of his jacket. In turn, his palms travelled down from her face to reach the small of her back, holding her stationary, not allowing her to escape. She reacted instinctively, curling her neck and tilting her head back, allowing him better access to her mouth.

As they kissed, Sheldon's mind swam with a thousand nonsensical thoughts – thoughts of how hot she felt in his hands. Her skin, her lips were burning him, and he felt like he was going to have to shed his own skin to survive this fever. Finally, he drew away, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against hers. They remained in this position for a minute – a minute of muted silence – until she spoke first, tilting her chin back so that she could look into his eyes.

"So, uh," she began lamely, trying to start an idle conversation,"I'd be willing to write a new contract with you." She reached forward and clipped his tie between her fingers.

"Oh?" he asked, snatching his tie from her hand and grabbing her chair to slide it forward until it touched his, his thighs on either side of her knees. "What kind of contract would that be?"

"A romantic one," she whispered, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, "if you'd be willing, that is."

He looked down into her eyes and brought his hands back up to cup her cheeks. "Penny, I do believe that I'd be willing to enter such a contract with you."

She smiled and reached up to gently touch his face, beckoning him to tilt his head downward. Their lips brushed against each other's. It was a soft kiss, and he closed his eyes to receive it, feeling the gentle pressure of her mouth and the hotness of her skin. Suddenly, the contact was gone, and he opened his eyes, disappointed. Penny had risen to her feet and was looking down at him, grinning.

"One more thing, Sheldon," she said, as she lowered herself down onto his lap and straddled his thighs.

His hands instinctively went to her hips, securing her in place. "Yes, Penny?"

"You may be a strong, dominant southern gentleman," she said with a mimicking drawl, grazing her lips along his, "but I'm a junior rodeo cornhusker from Nebraska."

She cocked an eyebrow in the air, staring him down with what Sheldon assumed she thought was an intimidating look. This girl had yet to meet Mary Cooper, his mother.

"Pray tell, Miss Penny," he drawled arrogantly with a thick accent, pulling her along his lap with strong hands, "what exactly does that mean?"

"It means," she said, shifting and twining her arms around his neck, "that you had better be ready to receive just as good as you give – if not better." She snaked her fingers through his hair, grabbing a handful of short hairs, and tugged his head back. "It's on, Mr Cooper."

Sheldon smirked, letting her take control… for now. "Well, darlin'," he said, waggling a dark eyebrow, "I'm waiting."

But he didn't wait.

He felt her fingers dig into his scalp, and he effortlessly batted them away, capturing her face in his hands and drawing her in for a deep, passionate kiss. Junior rodeo and Nebraska cornhuskers be damned. He was Sheldon Lee Cooper: Texan, Entrepreneur, Genius. She would have to bring that attitude of hers to the table and prove herself the strong woman. And she did. Over and over again.

Yes, Penny would be the death of him… But it would be a _good_ death.


	5. Epilogue

**The Texan Genius Deviation**

**Epilogue**

Sheldon was scribbling furiously on his whiteboard, turning from time to time to chatter excitedly with Penny, who was sitting on the sofa, one cushion over from _his_ spot. Her right heel was resting on the edge of the coffee table while her left foot was crossed over top. She had the remote in her hand, flipping through the channels, looking for something to watch. She had missed the last payment on her cable bill and was forced to watch _Gossip Girl_ at Leonard and Sheldon's. Sheldon had allowed this as long as she made him a mug of hot cocoa and listened to his _numerous_ theories on parallel universes. Or, to be more specific: parallel Sheldons.

She was utterly bored until he started explaining the butterfly effect: whereby the tiniest variable disrupts the ordinary condition allowing the smallest differences to arise, which ultimately changes the outcome of fate. Penny was intrigued by this idea (she had seen the movie), and she asked Sheldon to explain his theories, to point out instances where his life and personality might have done a 180' if something had occurred to disrupt the ordinary condition.

"There are many instances," Sheldon explained pedantically. "Infinite, really." He took in a deep breath, regarding Penny with the same look he gave his students, as though he was going to have to endure the torture of conversing with a lesser mind. "A parallel universe is a hypothetical self-contained separate reality coexisting with one's own." He pointed at his whiteboard. "See, _here_ is a specific group of parallel universes, known as a _multiverse_: it is a collection of worlds that constitute the same physical reality."

Penny blinked, nonplussed, and Sheldon rolled his eyes. He'd have to dumb it down for her.

"Say if shrimp had the ability to speak and walk on land."

At this notion, Penny snorted, and Sheldon glared reproachfully at her. She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter and nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Therein lies the difference between a parallel and an alternate reality," he said, still sniffing disapprovingly at her. "An alternate reality implies that the reality is a variant of our own world, whereas a parallel universe doesn't have to share a relationship with our own – where they very laws of nature could be different. Opposite." He shrugged indifferently, as though he were explaining an elementary subject. "Instead of breathing oxygen, we breathe in carbon dioxide or hydrogen. We live underwater as opposed to on land."

Penny nodded, finally understanding his meaning. "Yeah, but how many Sheldons are there in a world like _this one_?" she asked, muting the television. "You know, the kind that doesn't have talking shrimp or us living under water."

His lips twitched, his nervous ticks threatened to surface. "As I said before, Penny, there are an infinite number of alternate and parallel Sheldons."

Unsatisfied with his glib response, Penny crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "And I asked you to give me an example: show me a Sheldon of today who was influenced by a butterfly effect from the past."

Sheldon paused, pondering on the notion. His eyes suddenly lit up, and he raced over to Leonard's whiteboard and began erasing his roommate's equations and writing his own. He wrote fast and furious, and Penny couldn't understand any of it. However, she was still intrigued, so she coaxed him to verbally explain.

"See here," he said, pointing at an incomprehensible symbol, "this is me at the age of thirteen, around the time I created a nuclear reactor in my parents' garage. Instead of just being given a simple reprimand by my parents after the government intervened and fined my parents, my father decides to take me out of university and makes me go to school with my sister."

Penny nodded, enraptured as Sheldon pointed to another series of symbols and equations.

"With no higher education and my genius repressed, I am forced to go into business with my father and brother – say, creating a successful design and construction company in which I preside over as president; thus, letting down the world of science as we know it." He sighed mournfully. "A pioneer lost."

They stared at each other for a moment and then broke out into resounding laugher – Sheldon's laugh, short and breathless; Penny's high-pitched and loud. After their laughter at the impossibly ridiculous notion of Sheldon as some kind of construction worker died down, Penny turned to the lanky physicist, curling her legs up underneath her.

"So, do you think in these other parallel or alternate universes, our parallel selves would have crossed paths and, you know—" she motioned back and forth between them "—become friends?"

Sheldon lowered his pen and shook his head condescendingly. "Penny, there are an infinite number of worlds with an infinite number of outcomes for each person in those worlds, so there's no telling how many ways in which we could have been together."

"Been together, huh?" she asked coyly, but Sheldon did not get the implication. As smart as he was, he was sometimes painfully clueless.

"Indeed," he said, glancing up at the board with a smile. "But in _all_ these parallel worlds, I am a genius."

Penny snorted. "Sure you are, Sheldon. And in all those parallel worlds, I'm right there," she said with a wink, "kicking your ass… Mr Beautiful Mind."

Sheldon's spine locked rigid, and he glanced down at Penny, issuing her a disapproving glare. "That's _Doctor _Beautiful Mind to you in this world, Penny."

"No, Moonpie," Penny said with a grin, as she unmuted the television and resumed watching her program, "in this world, you're just a crazy wackadoodle."

–**The End– **

**

* * *

**

**Author Notes: **Yes, this was a zany AU story, but don't tell me that you didn't get just a _little_ enjoyment out of seeing Sheldon in jeans and muscle tees and steel-toed work boots…


End file.
